I was thinking yesterday of 2 things – how easy it was to avoid conversation; and how this trip, speechless, reminds me about the meditation camp Ridwan told me where for the whole week they didn’t talk, didn’t read, didn’t read, did nothing (didn’t even edit). And now I’m writing.

The view is still OK – hilly. Penn Center West has MCI office

I went out of the bus and into the station. As I walked in through the door I heard, “Yo! Mama! Yo! The floor’s wet!” and I continued walking. “Yo! Mama!” and I realized that he was referring to me – a black skinny guy, possibly looking at me. I couldn’t tell. When it’s night, and without contacts, my eyes are just really stupid. They can’t discern shapes that easily.

“Yo! Mama! The floor’s wet! Go out and in through that other door!” I quickly went out and in again through that other door. And that’s when I realized that he was actually a she, a very tomboy skinny black she.

When I queued up to get into the bus again, the Mexicans in front of me asked me to write something in my language. They were expecting some hieroglyph. I told them I would be afraid to disappoint them because I write just like a normal person from their country would write. I also told them that in my language I call reloj “arloji”, zapato “sepatu”, and queso “keju”.

They were fascinated. I wasn’t, because this has happened to me too many times before. I was just still fascinated at being called Mama in the middle of North America. Very fascinated, because the only other place anyone (well, other than my future children maybe) would possibly call me Mama is on the island of Flores, Indonesia – halfway around the world. Do these people know each other? They should, man!

Oh! You know what? We’ll pass Salt Lake City in a few hours, she told me, you have to get some pictures of it, she told me.

So, is it like, why did they, I mean, how did the city get its name? I asked.

Coz these salt lakes are just everywhere, she said.

You mean, I mean, they’re like, really salt? I asked.

Yep, salt, I think she said.

Oh. But. But it’s up in – I mean, is it like, I mean, we’re going up the mountain now, aren’t we? I asked.

Yes. Salt Lake City is up in the mountain, she said.

But then, I said, how come there’s, like, I said, salt? I asked. I mean, where did the salt come from? I asked. Was this, like, part of the sea once? I asked.

Hm.

Hm.

Hm.

Hm. I don’t remember her answer actually. So unfortunately this is where this part of the Greyhound Bus story must end.